Resident Evil:Origin
by unclepauly
Summary: The origin of Umbrella, set during World War 2. Finished!!!
1. Night

Resident Evil  
  
ORIGIN  
  
Doenitz Islands  
  
Off the coast of Denmark  
  
January 1944  
  
The revolutionary Type XXI U-Boat crept into the bay. Streamlined and sleek, it displaced 1600 tons and had an underwater speed twice that of any other submersible. These were the final days of the U-Boats. They had enjoyed success throughout the war, but thanks to improved allied tactics and support groups they were now losing. The fight had become increasingly unbalanced, and in every theatre they stood less chance of survival. As fresh young crews set off on patrol, it became less likely they would return. This was the reason that the first mate of the Westfalen Kurt Stapel did not expect to see Germany again. They would pick up supplies here and then leave for the Atlantic, and death, probably at the hands of the new "Walker" support groups that the allies were employing. The tide of the war was changing.  
  
Kurt sighed as the port came into sight. It was night, but he could still see the men moving around on the docks. He pulled the collar of his oilskin coat up to combat the cold of the night and tried to ignore the rain falling upon him. He turned to the captain. "What exactly is this place anyway Otto?" Otto Weddigen, the only commissioned officer on board, frowned. "Not quite sure. It's one of those research places I think. Probably working on some new and more efficient way of killing Jews". Kurt nodded. If this was a place of research then the Jews were probably the ones being tested on. He'd heard stories of the sort of things that happened. Nasty ones.  
  
As the Westfalen docked Kurt went below and fetched Wilhelm, the chief engineer, to accompany him. He wanted to make sure that the ship was in full working order when it went out to the ocean. The two men walked down the gangplank and shook hands with the young soldier waiting for them. As he spoke Kurt took note of his uniform. Waffen SS. Things on this island were definitely not normal, that was for sure. Not when Hitler's personal guard was stationed there. They got into a Kubelwagon and were driven to the island headquarters.  
  
Following the same young trooper down the almost medival corridors of the mansion HQ of Colonel Schweiger, Kurt beckoned to Wilhelm to stay close. He knew that Wilhelm was thinking the same thing as him. Herrenvolk. The master race. Every man they had seen on the island had been blonde.  
  
When they entered Schweiger's office Kurt had expected yet another blond man. The colonel was, however, bald. Kurt sat and informed the Colonel as to what was required for the submarine. Spare parts, an extra schnorkel, more diesel and so on could all be easily obtained said Schweiger. They went over some of the more complicated matters, such as the possibility of removing the acoustic devices from the new torpedoes. Eventually it was time to leave. But Kurt couldn't leave without asking the question that had been annoying him the whole time he had been on the island. "What is it that you do here Colonel? Is it V2 rockets? I suspected as much when I saw the SS troops"  
  
The colonel smiled. "I'm glad you asked!"  
  
"When I was first given command of this Island in three years ago I thought that my talents were being wasted. I thought that I was going to be bored out here. But, my dear boy, I was most certainly wrong. Upon arriving I asked the same question you did. What goes on here is the future of the Reich. This is a place of research into the herrenvolk. The man at the head of this, Jurgen Krupp, is a genius. They're working on chemicals to make our troops invincible. Already they've got a formidable fighting machine in the shape of some of the experiments with the untervolk."  
  
Kurt grimaced. As he had thought. Jews being experimented on. But the experiments of which the bald man spoke interested him.  
  
"What do you mean invincible?"  
  
"Quite literally invulnerability. I saw some of the tests that Krupp carried out. Jews withstanding bursts of machine-gun fire. They become extremely strong as well. I've watched them kill each other with their bare hands."  
  
"Why aren't we already employing these chemicals then?"  
  
"Well there are a few problems that need ironing out."  
  
"Such as?"  
  
"Well… behavioural problems. And Jews seem to enter a catatonic state, from what I've seen. The chemicals also cause disfigurements in some cases. Krupp doesn't tell me much about it. I only know from what I've seen in the holding pens."  
  
Kurt frowned again. Holding pens? Surely that was no way to treat one's fellow man. He wanted to leave now, despite his curiousity. He rose from his chair, said his goodbyes and left.  
  
As they walked back down the dock Kurt recounted what he had learned to Wilhelm. The engineer shivered, partly due to the cold. They heard splashing and looked ahead. Two of the Waffen SS men were throwing things into the water. As Kurt passed he saw three corpses floating on the surface of the inky water. He scowled in disgust and walked on toward the U-Boat.  
  
As Kurt reached the submarine he began to realise something was wrong. He could hear shouting and arguing. He broke into a sprint, determined to put a stop to any possible fights between his men and the island guard. He arrived at the diesel pumps just in time to see one of Wilhelm's engineers bringing a spanner down on the head of an SS trooper. There was a cracking sound and blood ran down the man's neck. His eyes rolled and he fell to the ground with a dull thud. Kurt drew his luger on the engineer. "Drop the spanner now!" The engineer shouted a protest but , seeing Wilhelm over Kurt's shoulder, he lowered it.  
  
"Perhaps you can tell me why you have just split the skull of a fellow German?" he yelled at the young man. He turned and nodded to Wilhelm and the Chief engineer ran to the submarine to get help. He turned back to the young man standing over the SS guard awaiting the explanation. He got it. "The SS took the crew sir! They took 'em all at gunpoint. I was preparing the pumps for refuelling and they didn't see me. They took them out toward those barracks there, and left this guy to guard."  
  
Kurt stared at the man, open mouthed and unsure. He kept the luger aimed at the man's chest, and called for Wilhelm. Wilhelm appeared two minutes later. He reported that there was no one on board, but there were signs of a scuffle and some blood on the floor of the captain's cabin. Kurt placed his luger back in it's holster. He knelt down beside the SS man and felt for a pulse. There was none. He handed the soldier's pistol, a Walther P- 38, to Wilhelm and took the MP-40 machine pistol for himself. He turned to the younger man, who Wilhelm called Scheer, and told him, "No guns for you until I'm sure you're telling the truth." He stood up.  
  
He could remember back to January 1940 when he had been 16. His father had a friend who was a reporter. This friend had told anybody who would listen about places where the unterfolk were being held. This friend had mentioned awful goings on in places like Auten and Auschwitz. Jews being tortured, experimented on and killed. His father's friend had been a smart man. So when the Gestapo had paid him a visit he ceased to talk of such things.  
  
Now, what seemed like a thousand years after those times, he looked into the darkness of the night and could just about make out a barracks. It was surrounded by walls, barbed wire and Kurt, squinting, could see a guard tower. This looked like the kind of place that his father's friend had talked about. He guessed that the Jews being used in the experiments were being kept here. He assumed that if he didn't act soon he and his fellow sailors might end up being part of the experiment as well. He beckoned to the other two to follow him and ran toward the hills by the prison.  
  
Looking down from the hill he could see the whole prison. He saw that most of it was made up of the pens that Schweiger had described. Through the mist and heavy rain he could make out figures lurching around inside of the pens. He decided that, as much as he sympathised with them, he would not help these people to escape. The events that Schweiger had told him of were too fresh in his memory. He saw little signs of security other than the tower, after all it is difficult to escape an island. With Wilhelm and Scheer following his example he stayed low and moved down the hill toward the prison buildings. He reached the side of the building and had begun to look for a point of entry when he heard a low growling to his side. He brought the machine pistol up, preparing to shoot. The growling had come from a pen right beside the building. As Kurt looked closer he saw what had become of the Jewish people. The figure closest to him was rotting. Kurt was surprised he hadn't smelt it from the hill. The man… thing's face was covered in blisters, lacerations and boils. Strips of flesh dangled from it's forearms. It's bare feet had almost completely decomposed and Kurt was able to see the bones in many places. He gagged and as he turned to avoid the sight of the awful creature he saw that his two friends were exhibiting signs that they shared his view.  
  
Turning back, and trying to avoid looking into the pen he saw that a small chain link passage linked it to the building. He was sure that the captain and the rest of the crew were inside but he had no intention of going through the pen. He had begun to get up to look for a door around the corner when he heard shouting. He could make out Otto's voice. He spun and saw the men being led out of the prison, along the passage and toward the pen by five SS soldiers. When some of the Navy men saw what the pen held they turned and refused to enter. For their protests the received blows and threats. The SS stopped about half way down the cage and closed a gate there. The prisoners continued down the tunnel to it's end. The soldiers, now aiming their guns, ordered the sailors to open the door. The U-boat crew, smelling the foul stench and seeing the full horror of the pen, refused. The blonde haired, blue eyed soldiers opened fire, killing two of the men. Then the captain, not wanting to watch his crew die, opened the gate.  
  
At first Kurt hadn't believed what he was seeing. As the crew of the Wesfalen walked into the pen every single…..monster…..inside moved toward them. When the men started to scream as they were eaten alive Kurt took action. He turned to Wilhelm and Scheer. "You two get them out of there. I'll take the herrenvolk." he barked. He handed his luger to Scheer and ran into action. At first the young men watching from the tunnel didn't hear him over the screams of the dying men. But as he got closer One of them turned around. He had half a second to note the naval uniform. Then Kurt opened fire, cutting the five men down in a hail of 9mm rounds. He turned and ran to give assistance to Wilhelm, who had shot the lock off of the pen gates. Wilhelm was firing at the inhuman things but to little effect. He could see Scheer's corpse being surrounded by a crowd of the catatonic experiments. The thing continued to come at Wilhelm, like… well…a zombie. It was clear that this wasn't going to work. He shouted to Wilhelm to retreat and made for the hills. 


	2. Dawn

Kurt hid in the woods high up in the hills for half an hour. Wilhelm didn't show up. No one did. As the rain grew heavier and the wind stronger Kurt felt desperately alone. He thought back to the moments when he had been coming to the island. He had felt lonely and depressed then! He chuckled. The kind of chuckle someone gives as they step off a ledge or put a gun in their mouth. At least when he was on the U-Boat he had only feared the allies. And at least the allies were not undead.  
  
Time passed and eventually Kurt decided to move and make some attempt to get off the blasted island. It probably wouldn't work. But then… he had nothing to lose. There were no other boats in the dock and he wouldn't be able to drive the U-Boat himself. His best chance lay with Colonel Schweiger. He would pay him a visit.  
  
Having returned to the dock Kurt changed into the clothes of the young SS trooper that Scheer had killed and then threw the body into the water along with his own uniform. Hoping no one would take note of his dark brown hair he set off once more toward the headquarters.  
  
Everything went exactly as he had planned it until he opened the door of Schweiger's office. At the desk sat a lean dark haired man with thick, bushy eyebrows. As the door shut the man looked up and raised those eyebrows seeing that Kurt's machine pistol was pointed at him.  
  
"What are you doing Private?" he snapped.  
  
Kurt calmly told the man what had occurred during his stay and demanded to see the Colonel. The man, who looked about thirty years old, began to smile.  
  
"I'm afraid that Colonel Schweiger will not be able to join us. I, Dr Krupp have taken over his position"  
  
As he said this Kurt noticed blood and fragments of brain matter on the wall. There was evidence of it on the floor as well. Seeing what Kurt was looking at Krupp smiled again.  
  
"He was proving unsafe for the Reich. A little too loose-tongued. He never fully understood the nature of the experiments. He thought it was to keep soldiers alive. Very naive of him. It was to bring them back to fight after their deaths."  
  
"All very interesting Mr Krupp but I'm afraid I'd rather discuss whether there are any boats on t…"  
  
He was cut short as the door flung open and a soldier ran in.  
  
"Sir, raiders breached pen three during feeding time an hour ago. We think it may have been British commandos. The specimens are now out of the pens. We may also have braches in pens two and four. We are currently allocating all resources to the capture or destruction of the experiments."  
  
The colour ran out of Krupp's face. He turned to Kurt.  
  
"YOU! You're responsible for this. Lieutenant, arrest him!!!"  
  
Kurt opened fire, throwing the young soldier against the wall of the office. Krupp tried to make for the door and Kurt pulled the trigger. A dry click indicated that the magazine was empty. Kurt hit the gun across the doctor's head rendering him unconscious. He then threw his gun to the floor and picked up the dead man's. He turned, spat upon the slumped form of Krupp and left the room.  
  
As he re-entered the hall he saw about ten men, alerted by the gunshots, come round the corner. As they bore down upon him he pointed down another corridor and shouted, " He went that way!"  
  
As the young SS men ran in the direction that he had indicated Kurt grinned. He couldn't believe it had worked. They must have been expecting a platoon of American GI s. He ran toward the exit. It was time to find some way off of this damn island.  
  
Walking on a path leading away from the HQ he saw a small airstrip with two transport planes. But, seeing the large number of men around and at the runway he decided to look elsewhere. Besides, he couldn't fly. After a while he became aware of shots being fired. At first he thought that they were intended for him, but they sounded like they were coming from about a mile in front of him.  
  
Soon he stumbled upon the bodies of seven young Waffen SS men. It had probably been them doing the shooting. As Kurt gathered their ammo he thought he saw something moving in the woods. He was also sure he saw one of the dead men twitch. He walked away quickly.  
  
Meanwhile, back at the airstrip that Kurt passed, Krupp was climbing onboard a plane. Things were going from bad to worse and he didn't expect to regain control of the island. Still, he had no qualms about leaving the young men here to fight to their deaths.  
  
Dawn was beginning to break. Kurt was now stumbling and tripping frequently. His eyes were bloodshot and he couldn't stop yawning. He couldn't bring himself to stop and sleep. Not when he knew what lurked on this island. He hoped he'd find an escape soon.  
  
The first of the bombers that Krupp had ordered began to take off and fly toward the island. They had been commanded to destroy as much of the island's surface as possible.  
  
Kurt stopped. He was standing on a beach and in front of him was the sea. He'd walked the length of the island. And he'd found no way off. He sat down and wept.  
  
The Luftwaffe was closing in on the island. The second and third waves were taking off from their bases.  
  
Kurt heard footsteps and turned. On the dunes above him figures were beginning to appear. Some of them wore torn SS uniforms. Some of them had been his crewmates. Some were once Jews. All of them where dead.  
  
The planes where above the island now.  
  
Kurt brought up his gun. He was dead, that was for sure. But he wasn't going down without a fight.  
  
"Drop the bombs," cried the bombardier. The bombs fell. 


	3. Day

The soldier ran as fast as he could manage. His breathing was heavy and rasping. He could hear his equipment clinking against his fatigues as he raced to reach the SS barracks. His torn shirt allowed the cool morning air to reach his skin, chilling him and soothing the deep wound in his right bicep somewhat. His face was contorted in pain and fear. He was getting slower. He could hear padded feet moving at high speed along the path behind him. He pushed himself harder, but succeeded only in becoming more tired. The pattering behind him stopped and something crashed into his back. He fell to the ground and heard a growl. The thing that had knocked him over was on his back. He felt sharp fangs slide into his neck. Saliva ran down his cheek. It dripped from there to the floor. The soldier could see that it was tinged with red.  
  
The teeth sank further in and the thing's jaws tightened. The young man couldn't understand it. Despite what was happening he felt rather calm. In fact he felt rather disconnected from what was going on. Like it wasn't happening to him. Yes, that was it, he wasn't here at all. This was happening to someone else. He almost smiled as he dropped into his dream like state. And as he heard bones crunch and snap, felt a judder run up his neck and smelt copper in the air his only thoughts were: "Now I thought we'd trained the guard dogs a little better than that!"  
  
***  
  
Kurt was aware that his situation was getting more and more hopeless. He'd used all but one of his clips and there was still a horde of the things coming at him. Only a few of the monsters had fallen to the hail of bullets he had unleashed, and some of them were beginning to get up again. Hands, covered in sores and blisters, reached out for him. He saw brownish saliva drip from the rotten lips of his assailants. His nostrils filled with the stench of wet decay.  
  
He retreated, firing as he did, to further down the beach. The tide began to flow around his boots. There was a snap from the gun as his ammo ran out. He looked around. The grotesque experiments had surrounded him. There was only one route of escape.  
  
He waded out further. The cold water soaked into his clothes and made them heavy. He shivered. Hypothermia would be inevitable if he stayed in the water for any extended period of time. He was waist deep now. The water swirled around him, pulling down, and his uniform tried to follow it. This gave Kurt the impression that Neptune himself was trying to claim him. He turned.  
  
The results of Krupp's atrocities were trying to follow him, but being knocked over by an environment that they were completely unused to. They would lose their balance as each wave hit them and then fall over, unable to get back up. Kurt let out a shout that was equal parts laugh and insult. Then he struck out and began swimming.  
  
***  
  
Looking out onto the island the Luftwaffe pilot shook his head. He was rather uneasy about bombing territory that was already under German occupation. His squadron seemed to think that this was a training exercise. The pilot feared that they were just trying to explain away what they knew to be true. On their last pass he had seen what looked like soldiers shooting into crowds of people. That sounded too much like what he had heard happened at his hometown of Auten. In fact….  
  
Now that the pilot thought of it that was probably exactly what was going on. And he didn't feel very good about that. He decided that he would return to the area he had seen the massacre occurring.  
  
***  
  
The two men worked frantically to reload the machine gun. The slobbering beasts that had killed their lieutenant were slowly making the way over the bodies of the ones that had fallen to high velocity bullets of the gun. "Ready!!!" shouted the first man. The second man depressed the trigger and light leapt out of the barrel followed immediately by an eardrum bursting staccato beat. The first man covered his ears and tried to ignore the thick smell of cordite in the air. He coughed and spluttered as the smoke produced from the exploding gunpowder drifted into his face.  
  
The second man raked the gun back and forth, trying to hit as many as he could. He grimaced as he saw one of the one in a Kreigsmarine uniform coming at him. He was peppered with bullet holes, and half of his face bitten off. Even the arm he had lost didn't seem to bother him. As the first man yelped in fear the second focused the hail of fire in the direction of the seaman. The bullets hit him with a series of sickening wet smacks. Blood flew from the wounds and dribbled down the torn and dirty uniform to mingle with the dirt and dust.  
  
The last of the ammo sprayed out and for a moment both the troopers were silent. Then they saw that none of the disgusting creatures were standing. Both men got to their feet, adrenaline still pumping into their veins. The second man laughed, proud of his victory. The first man wondered what that noise was.  
  
***  
  
As the messerchmitt roared along at 20 feet above the ground the pilot searched for his targets. Then he saw them. Two men standing at the top of a hill on the edge of a forest. At there feet was a machine gun and at the foot of the hill were the corpses of civilians. It didn't take a mastermind to figure out what had happened. The pilot lined up the two murderers in his sights. His finger hovered over the triggers on his controls.  
  
Then something odd happened. One of the men that had just committed the hideous act waved to him. Filled with rage at the idea that they thought of him as an ally the pilot jabbed the triggers.  
  
Two lines of dust were kicked up as the bullets crashed into the earth at lethal speed. The lines raced like hungry wolves toward the two men on the hill. They flashed by and the two men fell, bleeding and dying, to the ground. The plane that they had seen as their salvation flew off in search of new targets.  
  
***  
  
Kurt swam, fighting the tide, and tried to get back in to the shore. He was no longer shivering. He was experiencing muscle rigidity and extreme lethargy. His whole body was numb. He knew this was definitely a bad thing. If he didn't get his body temperature up soon he would fall asleep. His internal functions would shut down and he would die.  
  
He pulled all himself together and channelled his decreasing energies on one objective.  
  
Staying alive. 


	4. Cover Up

Half swimming, half drowning Kurt struggled to reach the shore. The cold was stabbing at every part of his body. He had gone numb and was feeling even more sleepy. His core body temperature had dropped well below the safe level. If he didn't make it….  
  
15 minutes later he reached the shore. He fell onto the wet sand on the beach. The wind blowing caused the water on his body to become even more cold. The wind chill factor would kill him if he didn't… His eyelids felt like bricks had been tied to them. Exhaustion had overtaken him. His body sagged and sleep raced to claim him. Death would quickly follow…  
  
Just as his head hit the soft, moist sand a bomber flew by. It kept a fairly straight course, not having to fear return fire, and dropped it's cargo on a small guardhouse 75 metres from where Kurt was sleeping. The explosion awoke him immediately. His ears rang and he began to cough as smoke floated from the burning rubble.  
  
He crawled slowly toward the guardhouse that overlooked the beach. What was left of it anyway. Leaving a long trail behind him he moved gradually up the sloping dune. Feeling the warmth that was emanating from the burning wreckage he started to move faster, ignoring the pain that was screaming through his almost rigid muscles.  
  
Somehow he made it. He curled into a foetal position in front of the raging fire and started to rest. He could feel warmth gradually returning to his body. He smiled and rested, barely noticing the screams of the soldiers as they burned.  
  
***  
  
At this time a small, lean, dark haired man with bushy eyebrows was leaving an airbase in Denmark. Driving, alone, with very little idea of what he was going to do he decided that he wasn't going to be looked upon with favour. No, it was better to hide from the Nazis and hope that the Allies won the war. He was fluent in French. He might even be able to pass himself off as a French man. The frown that had begun in an office on the Doenitz island finally began to go away. He scratched his nose and continued along the road. As time passed he began to whistle.  
  
***  
  
Kurt opened his eyes. All he could see was grey. As time passed he became aware of clouds creeping into the edges of his vision. He sat up. The fire was still going and there was a smell of burnt wood and pork in the air. Kurt got to his feet, wincing with the pain caused by his stiff body. He looked out at the beach and breathed a heavy sigh. He wasn't going to be able to swim to Denmark anyway. He started to walk.  
  
***  
  
Untersturmfuhrer Vereker brought the shot glass to his lips. He drank and coughed as his throat burned. He put down the glass and lit a cigarette. He looked toward the doorway. No, the things weren't there anymore. Not since he'd put all the tables and chairs of the barracks against it. The guard dogs and killed Radl and the rest of the men had not returned from their patrols. Vereker inhaled deeply.  
  
He'd served in most of the hellholes that this war had offered so far. He'd been part of the push against Russia, led operations in Africa and on his chest was the Krete badge. He'd been through all that but he'd never seen anything like what was happening today. Crows had chased his Kubelwagen when he'd driven to HQ the previous night. Since the breaches in the holding pens he'd heard unholy things, glimpsed shadows running through the woods and smelled the stench of death in the air.  
  
Now, having just finished his eighth brandy, he got up from his seat. He wouldn't be remembered as a coward. He was more than that. He'd fight until he had either saved his fellow officers or died. He picked up his steal helmet and put it on. He reached over for the mauser, where he'd left it, propped against a wall. He attached the bayonette and started for the door.  
  
He had begun to pull the chairs away from the door when he heard glass shattering. A growl issued from somewhere in the barracks. Vereker turned his head.  
  
"Oh scheiss," he muttered.  
  
***  
  
Kurt picked up the pace. He didn't feel so bad now. His limbs had ceased to ache and, although he was sure he had a cold, he didn't feel too bad any more. His clothes were damp and he longed to get something dry to wear.  
  
He hadn't run into anymore of the monsters since his skirmish on the beach. He'd hear a growl or a moan every so often from the bushes but he doubted that anything there could catch him. The sound of explosions from the bombing was what he heard most. Every five minutes there'd be another series of explosions, followed by the drone of a plane's engines.  
  
Kurt's main worry was now his lack of weapon. If something were to attack him he'd have no means of defence. If he was going to stay alive he was going to need a gun. And even the gun would not garuntee survival, as he'd learnt on the beach.  
  
  
  
Ritter Neuhoff, a Colonel, stepped into Himmler's office. He swallowed and tried to ignore the sweat that was soaking the back of his uniform. In front of him, behind the desk, was Himmler, dressed in full uniform as Riechsfuhrer SS. The pudgy bald man in black looked up.  
  
"Yes?" he inquired, his voice carrying a touch of menace.  
  
Neuhoff swallowed again and told Himmler his news.  
  
"I regret to inform you, sir, that Project Gefallen has become uncontrollable. Our military commanders have already begun to raze the island."  
  
"And what of Professor…what was his name?"  
  
"Frupp sir. He is no longer in contact with us. It is possible that he was killed on the island."  
  
"Very well. You may leave now. Ensure that all the Gefallen files are destroyed."  
  
Himmler returned to his paperwork. Neuhoff backed away catiously. 


	5. The Solution

The Tri-Motor Junkers JU 52s began to drop their speed as they approached. Inside each of the planes were the elite Fallschirmjäger, the German paratroopers. They were part of the Luftwaffe and highly respected among both their allies and their enemies. They had gained almost legendary status from their performances in Russia and Greece. Now they were being counted upon to end the mishap at the Doenitz islands.  
  
"Alright everyone!" Colonel Werner Briegel yelled above the drone of the engines, "Let's prepare to jump."  
  
Instantly the twelve other men within his plane were on their feet. They were not carrying any weapons; their equipment would be dropped in waffenhalters (weapon containers) that were stored under the Junker's wings. They checked their R-16 parachutes and made their way to the narrow fuselage door. Then, when given the word from Briegel, they jumped and went into a straight body dive. Their chutes opened, leaving them in a face down position.  
  
The island, and whatever it contained, rushed forth to meet them.  
  
***  
  
Kurt was out of the woods and following a large road toward the SS barracks. He hoped to find some supplies there. There would surely be a dry uniform and some weapons. Kurt was also feeling extremely hungry and was looking forward to the prospect of something to eat. The road began to slope upward and Kurt stopped.  
  
In front of him was a dead body. By this point Kurt was quite used to dead bodies, but there was something wrong here. He looked slowly around, scanning the area, looking for any sort of activity. Nothing. His eyes narrowed and his eyebrows knitted themselves together.  
  
He walked slowly and cautiously toward the corpse. He could see blood running down the slope from the wounds. He put his foot to the shoulder and turned the man over. Bite marks covered the throat. The uniform was completely soaked through and dark with the blood. It had been torn to shreds. Something, something nearby, had almost taken this man to pieces. As Kurt examined the body closer he saw that the right arm had been chewed to the point that the bone was visible. He picked up the man's machine pistol, luger and two grenades. He decided not to bother with the uniform. It was almost as wet as his.  
  
There was sudden movement in the trees above him. He jerked his head up, fear and excitement rushing through him. Several dark shapes emerged from the foliage and rose up into the sky. Their shape, silhouetted against the sun was unmistakable. Kurt smiled. Only crows.  
  
***  
  
The Fallschirm-Trupp had landed and regrouped. The equipment and weapons were being given out as Briegel barked orders in his growling voice, a product of a lot of drinking and smoking. They were going to split up into groups and take out specific targets, whilst engaging any enemy encountered. Once their objectives had been achieved they would rendezvous at the remains of the island headquarters and begin an island wide sweep to rid any surviving elements. They were warned that the enemy were not a normal force. In light of what Briegel had been told, that was an understatement.  
  
The BMW R/75 76cc motorbikes were being set up and their sidecars were being attached. The men were taking doses of Benzedrine-type drugs to keep them alert for extended periods of time. Briegel growled at his 12 men to hurry up. He wanted to get this done within the next twelve hours. A Kettenrad motorcycle roared past him. His men, carrying MP-40s and Mausers ran over to him. One of them had an MG-42 light machine gun slung across his back. They all looked quite placid. Briegel could understand this. After their experiences on the Eastern Front this seemed like a walk in the park. With a snarl (he had to keep his men respectful) he ordered them to follow him. He could hear howling coming from the woods.  
  
***  
  
Kurt continued on his way along the path. Eventually he came to its end at which point he found the barracks. He walked up, water still dripping from his uniform. He tried to open the door, but couldn't. The handle had turned, and the door had opened a few inches, so there…  
  
A bullet punched a hole through the door, narrowly missing Kurt's hand. He dropped to the floor and cocked the machine-pistol. He heard the bolt action of a Mauser being worked, then a tinkling as the casing hit the floor. He tried to slow his rapidly increasing breathing rate.  
  
Footsteps. He could hear footsteps. He decided to chance talking to the shooter.  
  
"Wait! Wait, I'm human. Don't shoot."  
  
From inside there was a stream of surprised expletives. The footfalls became louder, until they stopped at what Kurt was sure was the other side of the door. There was crashing as things were thrown to the floor. Then the door opened.  
  
***  
  
Vereker looked out of the doorway, ecstatic at the thought that he was not alone on the island. His smile fell. He couldn't see anyone. But he could hear breathing. He lowered his eyes. On the ground was a brown haired young man, surely barely out of his teens. The young man was on his back and holding an MP-40 machine-pistol. Slowly, it dawned upon Vereker that the gun was pointed at him. He dropped his Mauser to the floor and raised his hands.  
  
"Won't you come in?" he asked timidly.  
  
***  
  
Kurt relaxed and got to his feet. He slung the machine-pistol back over his shoulder. He smiled at the man before him and went inside.  
  
Introductions were made and Kurt felt the compulsion to lie about how he'd gotten on the island. He told the man he was part of a guard escorting a General on an inspection. Vereker seemed to believe it. Kurt went to shower and get some dry clothes. Feeling fresh and content he walked back into the room that Vereker was sitting in, stepping around the broken glass and the bloodied corpse of a dog.  
  
He sat down and ate some of the rations he'd found. Vereker made a nuisance of himself, asking question after question about what was going on. Kurt's answer was always an "I don't know" or a shrug of the shoulders. After a while Vereker got up and staggered over to the window. Kurt could see that he was quite drunk. He stank of alcohol and there was an empty brandy bottle in the far corner of the room.  
  
Gazing out the window, Vereker muttered something. Kurt didn't bother to ask him to repeat it and finished his meal.  
  
***  
  
Vereker scratched his neck. He'd had an itchy sensation all over his body since the guard dog had bitten him. 


	6. Mistakes and Mutiny

Kurt and Vereker left the barracks ten minutes later. When asked what he intended to do by Vereker Kurt simply shrugged. He had no idea, but he was starting to get into the swing of things. And one thing he was definitely not going to do was wait around for someone to find him. Because if you did it might not be someone who found you. It might be something.  
  
***  
  
Briegel and his men were making quick progress. They'd killed more than ten of the hostiles so far and had almost reached their objective. They, and seven other groups, would be converging on and anything that remained in the pens. The planes had all but decimated the area were the experiments were carried out but there were reports from the pilots of movement within the ruins.  
  
***  
  
Brandt stirred. He shifted but stopped as pain shot through his right leg. He tried to open his eyes. The harsh light of the sun made him squint. Where was he? He couldn't seem to remember much. He looked down at his body. His uniform was torn, covered in blood and dust. On top of his right leg there was a large slab of concrete. He drew his attention away from himself to his surroundings.  
  
He was lying in a pile of rubble. He was surrounded by pieces of brick, steel, broken pillars, wood, pieces of glass. There was dust all around and it was making him cough. He closed his eyes again and tried to remember.  
  
There had been a breakout in the pens. He'd tried to stop the breach but ran out of ammo. He'd hidden inside the building. And after a while he'd heard a plane in the distance.  
  
And now he was here. He'd have to try to get help.  
  
He pushed at the rubble trapping his leg and after some effort it rolled off him. He inspected the limb to see how badly hurt he was. It didn't seem to be broken and he decided that he'd be able to walk as long as he didn't put too much weight on it. He rose and started to stumble away from the ruins of the pens. As he did he attracted the attention of other things that had survived the blast.  
  
***  
  
Briegel looked down from the top of the hill at his objective. He'd rendezvoused with the other troops and they were ready to begin the attack. He took out his field glasses. Moving in the rubble he could see a fair few figures. He brought down the field glasses and shouted.  
  
"Snipers"  
  
***  
  
Brandt hobbled as fast as he could from the ruins. He was covered in dust and blood from his wounds. He thought he probably looked like death. Like the things in the pens. Behind him the Jews, whose warder he had been, began to move after him. Some of them snarled, some of them moaned. Their arms were out stretched, fingers (or stubs in some cases) wriggling. They were gradually gaining on him, despite their slow, purposeful walk. He tried to move faster.  
  
There was a whizzing sound and one of the mutated Jews behind him fell to the ground, half it's face missing. He could here the crack of rifles coming from the hills. He grinned. Sanctuary.  
  
As each of the monsters around him succumbed to the marksmen's bullets Brandt got closer and closer to the hill. The soldiers up there hadn't noticed him yet. He threw up his arms, above his head, and then tried to yell. The dust in his throat prevented him from shouting anything legible so he merely let out a strangled growl.  
  
***  
  
Briegel frowned and looked down the hill. Then he nudged one of the snipers.  
  
"You missed one. There, at the bottom of the hill."  
  
The young man brought his rifle to bear and looked down the telescopic sights. Strange. While most of the things he'd seen today had their arms stretched out in front of them, this one had it's arms reaching upwards to the sky.  
  
He started to squeeze the trigger.  
  
***  
  
Brandt couldn't understand it. The men at the top of the hill were looking at him with cold stares. He could see revulsion in their faces. But why? Why would he cause them to…  
  
He stopped and looked down at his tattered clothes. He realised that he was covered in blood and dirt, his face covered in bruises and cuts. He remembered that he'd walked toward slowly toward them, limping and groaning.  
  
OH GOD!!! They must think that he was a…  
  
The bullet tore the top of his head off.  
  
***  
  
Colonel Werner Breigel surveyed the area before them. No movement, no noise. He nodded to his men and started to lead them to the rendezvous point.  
  
***  
  
Vereker stopped. Kurt walked on a few steps before he noticed that his companion (or hindrance) was no longer following him. He turned and sighed.  
  
"What now Vereker?"  
  
"I'm thirsty. Give me the water," demanded the untersturmfuhrer.  
  
"That's the third time in twenty minutes Vereker. We need to conserve our supplies"  
  
"I don't care. Just give me the damn water"  
  
Kurt ignored the man and started to walk. He saw now that it had been a bad idea to bring the SS man along. He'd been nothing but a pain in the ass. And extremely unprofessional. Surely they taught the SS to be a little more disciplined than this?  
  
Kurt frowned. Vereker had also changed a lot since he'd met him a few hours ago. Then he'd been a drunken, clumsy but well-meaning man. But since they'd left the barracks behind he'd become more and more aggressive. And quick to anger.  
  
"STOP!"  
  
Kurt turned again. This time he didn't give any withering stares or sighs of desperation. For Vereker was pointing the rifle at him.  
  
"Vereker…what are you doing? I'm of a higher rank than you. This is treason"  
  
The soldier snorted. His aim didn't waver.  
  
"Rank? Ha. You're just a kid. I'm not going to take orders from someone who's ten years younger than me. And rank? Look around. Do you think rank means anything here? I could kill you and get away with it"  
  
Vereker looked at him, eyes wild and staring. He was sweating despite the Scandinavian winter and his face was grey. Kurt nodded slowly. He reached down to the water canteen on his hip.  
  
"Ok Vereker. You win. You're in charge now"  
  
Verker saw that Kurt was going for the water and smiled. He lowered the rifle. Drool ran down his chin. His eyes were bloodshot now and everything itched like crazy. And he was hungry. But he wasn't sure what.  
  
He nodded his approval to Kurt. The young man's hand continued to move slowly for the container on his belt. It drifted on past it, toward the holster.  
  
Before Vereker had time to react Kurt brought his hand up again, this time holding a luger. He squeezed off two shots, both of which caught the SS man in the chest. Vereker flew backwards and died in mid-air. He hit the ground and sent up dust.  
  
Kurt let out a breath and reholstered his gun. He returned to the direction he had been heading, moving a little faster than before.  
  
After a while Vereker got up and began to shuffle toward the woods. 


	7. Ritterrüstung

Briegel and his men rendezvoused with the rest of the Fallschirmjäger troops at the smoking remains of the island headquarters. Briegel walked off with the other commanding officers to discuss the best course of action. While he was away his men surveyed the scene. All around them there was debris that had fallen from the building as it exploded. The ruins themselves were black, thin grey smoke still rising from them. Those with better eyesight noted human remains in the ash and rubble. They shook their heads. Not a good day for the Reich.  
  
***  
  
Briegel was speaking to his fellow Colonels about the next steps that would be taking to secure the island. They would dispatch all of the men on the BMW motorbikes to find and hold the airfield. Everyone else would sweep the island to insure there was no surviving hostile element.  
  
Briegel offered Braust, with whom he'd served in Crete, a cigarette. Both men wore the Kreta medal on their uniforms, testament to the courage that they'd shone when the invasion of the Greek island had taken place. Braust accepted and inhaled deeply once it had been lit.  
  
"I saw men's bodies in the ruins of the HQ Braust"  
  
"I saw them too. I guess our superiors were a little too anxious to cover this up and ordered in the bombers too soon"  
  
"That's what worries me Braust. What if they want to insure that no one knows what occurred here?"  
  
Braust took another drag from his cigarette and was silent. Eventually he spoke up, avoiding the point that Briegel had given.  
  
"Have you received any casualties yet?"  
  
"Nein. Those things move slowly and we pick them off at long range. Yourself?"  
  
"Ja. One man. We happened upon a pack of dogs. They rushed him and had his throat out before we could open fire. I suspect they were a product of whatever was going on at this island"  
  
The two men lapsed back into silence and chose to remain there.  
  
***  
  
Kurt's feet were killing him. He'd walked for so long and still hadn't found anything. He sat down at the side of the small road and removed his boots. He suspected that they were a size too small. The young German rested at the side of the road, breathing the air, feeling the cold chill of the wind, smelling the sea and being glad for it all. If he could get through this little adventure alive he would never take anything for granted. He'd seen and experienced too much in the past while to go back to living normal life.  
  
He looked around himself. He'd stopped in a wide-open space so that if one of the Krupp experiments (as he'd begun to refer to them) came at him he'd have time to get to his weapon and open fire. There were a few bushes and of course the ever present hills and trees. He took out the flask of water, the same one he'd killed Vereker over, and drank. It didn't taste good despite his thirst.  
  
He went over all the different ways he had come up with to get off the island. Most of them were farfetched and a few were just plain crazy. A miracle would probably do the job, but then God didn't just hand those out these days. Kurt supposed that they wouldn't be miracles if they happened everyday.  
  
Planes roared overhead, carrying more bombs to drop on the island.  
  
There had to be boats somewhere. It was an island after all. When you're on an island a boat is something of a necessity. Kurt began to feel the dark cloud of depression slipping over him for the first time since his despairing on the beach.  
  
In the trees above him the crows gathered.  
  
***  
  
Krupp had stopped to refuel. He flashed his credentials, member of the Nazi Party, at the owner of the petrol station. As the pump attendant filled the gas tank of the Kubelwagon Krupp tried to relax. He couldn't go back to his old life now. He'd be tried as a traitor if he did. And he'd seen what happened to traitors. A friend of his, Major Janssen, had been a traitor. He'd been part of a plot to kill the Fuhrer. And when he'd been discovered he'd been hung with piano wire.  
  
Krupp could remember the day well. There had been many high-ranking officials at that particular execution. Krupp had noticed that Rommel had looked rather uncomfortable as Janssen had let out his last strangled gurgles. Now that Krupp thought of it Janssen had mentioned Rommel more than once. Ah well. The smell that had occurred as Janssen had lost control of his bowels had been enough to put Krupp off of betraying the Reich. Or as it now stood, getting caught for betraying the Reich.  
  
Krupp frowned, his two bushy eyebrows melding into one. It was best to look to the future. He had a new life now. And change was always good. Perhaps his new life would be better than the old.  
  
It was then that a horrible thought struck Krupp.  
  
What if they found Ritterrüstung? 


	8. The Creation

Krupp drove quickly along the roads encountering little traffic.  
  
Oh God. How could he have forgotten Ritterrüstung ?  
  
***  
  
The Doenitz Islands  
  
Off the coast of Denmark  
  
June 1942  
  
"I just think it might be better if we hadn't put such a high concentration into the subject's body"  
  
Krupp sighed as the SS men hauled the disgusting mass of tissue out of the lab. He didn't agree with his young research assistant, Klaus. In fact he wanted to slap Klaus for saying it. The little shit thought that he knew better than a man who was obviously his superior, both in intellect and ancestry. Klaus had a Jewish grandmother and someday, if he wasn't a little more respectful to those of pure Arian descent, Krupp might take it to himself to alert the men of the Waffen SS to this fact.  
  
As Klaus started to mop up the mess on the floor and walls of the room Krupp tried to come up with a solution to his current problem. The Gefallen project, which he'd headed since its introduction in 1940 was coming along well. He'd been able to reanimate the corpses of the Jewish test subjects using the virus he'd discovered. He'd been satisfied that they would make a good weapon against allied troops but he felt that he had the ability to create something better. He had started work on a newer version of the virus, one that would cause greater mutation of the subject.  
  
Now, two and a half years later he had still not reached his goal. The primary virus had been perfected to give maximum reanimation, which was good but his newer mutation of the virus had achieved little. It had achieved a great deal of Jewish deaths and a lot of messes for Klaus to clear up, but Krupp didn't see this as a plus point.  
  
Every time they'd injected the new strain into a test subject there was rapid tissue growth and mutation of the body. This was what Krupp wanted, but the effects wouldn't stop. The tissue growth would continue until the body either exploded or got to sizes that were dangerous. If a test subject got to that size Krupp ordered soldiers equipped with flamethrowers to destroy it.  
  
Krupp had tried to deal with the problem. He'd tried to dilute the solution that he pumped into the test subjects' veins. This had always resulted in no transformation at all. The only thing it accomplished was the death of the subject and Krupp was sure that the Final Solution had to be cost effective. So now he was trying to give higher concentrations. This had caused cell mitosis so rapid that the subject was liable to explode within a minute of the administration of the solution.  
  
Krupp went to bed hoping that some muse would give him the inspiration he needed. The next few days were the same and at one point he did slap Klaus, although not as hard as he would have liked.  
  
One night he was having dinner with that insufferable moron Schweiger. He'd eaten slowly, sipping his wine and trying hard not to show his disgust at Schweiger's pig-like eating habits. And then, he'd looked up, for no reason in particular and watched Schweiger pouring beer from a bottle into a glass.  
  
Krupp watched seeing that Schweiger didn't pour it all in at once to avoid creating a large head of foam. He did it slowly…  
  
Klaus was washing the scalpels in the lab when Krupp ran in. The dark haired man smiled at Klaus and said, "Get me a Jew in here Klaus. I think I've solved the problem.  
  
When Klaus came back with a sedated Jewish man in a wheelchair he saw Krupp preparing a hypodermic needle.  
  
"5ccs? Dr Krupp, our tests have shown that won't have any effect"  
  
"Ha. We'll soon see about that. You see Klaus the problem was that we were overloading the body with the virus. What we must do is give small doses. Small doses over a period of weeks. Then I'll have reached my goal. And the funny thing is… that ignorant fool Schweiger helped me see it. In fact he probably will never know that he did."  
  
And so Krupp had carried out his new method, and within weeks it was showing signs of working. The Jew they had begun the test on had been in his twenties and extremely frail as a result of the way he was being treated in the camps. Now it was impossible to tell his age. He had grown to a height of seven feet and was heavily built. His body showed the same sort of symptoms as the rest of the experiments did. Skin had peeled off, sores and blisters had formed, IQ dropped to insectile level and so on. However, there were things that made Ritterrüstung different from Krupp's other experiments.  
  
The new strain had caused the Jew's body to mutate. Eyeballs the size of chicken eggs had appeared on his upper right bicep. The bone in his left arm had grown, breaking through the flesh at the wrist, tearing off his left hand and creating a long spear like implement. His shoulders and chest were now much greater in size, probably bigger than most Olympic weight lifters.  
  
A week after the treatment had finished they had let Ritterrüstung loose in a cage filled with Jews. It had killed them all within a few seconds.  
  
Krupp had had high hopes for his latest experiment. But that had all changed with the arrival of the Riechsfuhrer SS.  
  
Himmler had talked for some time about visiting the island to view the progress of the Gefallen project, but Krupp had never actually expected him to bother. So when the Riechsfuhrer's plane had touched down on the airfield on July 17th Krupp had been caught by surprise. Klaus had almost died of shock upon seeing the visitor.  
  
He showed Himmler around the island. The pudgy little man had not shown a flicker of emotion for the whole tour. He had yawned when shown the pens full of lurching, groaning figures, he'd scratched his nose thoughtfully as they'd given him demonstrations of how the things stood up to gunfire and he'd been polishing his glasses when Klaus went through the details of the experiments.  
  
And then they'd gone into Krupp's lab. Himmler had noticed the hulking figure in one of the cells. And of course, he'd asked about it. And then Klaus, still in awe of the Riechsfuhrer had not taken care near the cell.  
  
When they'd managed to wash Klaus out of Himmler's clothes, Himmler had told Krupp that the Ritterrüstung project was to be terminated. Frupp had argued that Ritterrüstung would be almost invincible on the battlefield.  
  
"Sure, and it will wipe out the allies no doubt. But what happens then? I'll tell you what. It'll turn round and attack us. And because it's almost invincible it can't be stopped like your other experiments can. Terminate the project Jurgen."  
  
And so Krupp had stopped the research into Ritterrüstung but he hadn't destroyed it. Just kept it in one of the lab cells, feeding it a Jew once or twice a week.  
  
***  
  
And now, almost two years later, on the run from the Gestapo, Krupp cursed himself for not getting the soldiers to destroy it. No matter how difficult it might have been.  
  
***  
  
Back on the island, in one of the underground laboratories, Ritterrüstung stirred. 


	9. Crows

Two German officers were looking at a map of the Doenitz islands. They were standing in the war room of a German base in Denmark. One of them was listing off statistics and reports relating to the current assault on the island.  
  
"…few SS troops remaining. The Fallschirmjäger have the situation under control. Luftwaffe have taken out most of the above ground targets."  
  
"Above ground?" inquired the second officer.  
  
"Yes. There are two underground labs. One of them was Frupp's and the other was used by the other scientists. Frupp's was the larger of the two. I recommend the immediate destruction of both structures as soon as possible."  
  
"Agreed"  
  
***  
  
When they crow landed beside Kurt he was almost asleep. It walked slowly towards the place where he sat.  
  
Kurt was tired. It wasn't exhaustion so much as despair that was making him tired. He wanted to go to sleep and get away from this terrible place, escaping into dreams. He expected he was going to have nightmares for some time if he got away alive.  
  
He had just started to drift into unconsciousness when the crow bit his hand. He yelled and jumped to his feet. He flapped his hand from side to side. He later reflected that his frantic movements to dislodge the bird would have seemed rather funny, were it not for the grim circumstances.  
  
The bird didn't let go but held on to the point of his hand that it had bitten into. He set his hand to the ground and brought his foot down on the crow's skull. There was a sharp crack, immediately followed by the introduction of a foul smell in the air.  
  
He wheeled backwards, bringing his hand up to examine the damage. A lot of bruising, but no skin had been broken.  
  
What in the name of God would make a cr…  
  
There was a loud flutter as nine other crows, which had been watching from the trees, took to the air.  
  
***  
  
The man carrying the field radio rushed up to Briegel.  
  
"Sir, incoming orders from HQ, listen!"  
  
He passed the radio set to Briegel.  
  
"…..repeat, bombing of target in your area. Area 3 is no go for next ten minutes. Hold your advance. That is Area 3…"  
  
Brigel turned to his men and ordered them to hold their position. He turned to the Sergeant Kessal, who was examining the maps.  
  
"…area 3… It's one mile straight in front of us sir. We'd better hold for a few minutes."  
  
Briegel nodded his agreement.  
  
***  
  
The Junkers dive bomber roared over the island, quickly closing in on its target. The pilot, and the 3 men who were flanking him, were under orders to bomb the area where Frupp's lab was located. Another three Junkers were currently headed to another part of the island to take care of the second underground lab.  
  
The four sleek planes flew in low, just above the treetops. Within minutes of their arrival at the island they were at the target.  
  
They climbed, dropped the cargo of explosives, and increased their altitude rapidly.  
  
"Bombs away," they cried out in unison.  
  
The bombs all hit the intended target. Explosions leapt up into the air, reaching toward the afternoon sky. The ground collapsed, falling down into the labs, crushing all that they contained. Plumes of smoke and dust began to rise into the atmosphere. The roar of the destruction was deafening.  
  
And then as the drone of the planes disappeared, silence fell once more. There was no noise as the dust began to slowly drift back towards the rubble below, settling on the broken masonry.  
  
Nothing stirred as the burnt ground slowly cooled.  
  
And then an enormous, rotting, muscled arm clawed its way out of the ruins as Ritterrüstung began to break free of it's prison.  
  
***  
  
Kurt swept his arm to the side to ward away the diseased crows that were attacking him. He fired his luger at them, picking the birds off with some degree of accuracy. There weren't many left now, only about three. The others lay on the ground, dead.  
  
He fired as one of them settled on the ground. The bird's head exploded, skull fragments, brain matter, blood and feathers flying into the air. It's friend flew into his back and started gnawing at his uniform. He felt it's talons go through his uniform and prickle his back.  
  
Reacting quickly he jumped backwards and landed on his back, crushing the bird. He looked around for the last bird. It was flying low and coming straight at him. He raised the luger, sure of a hit and pulled the trigger.  
  
There was a *click* signifying a lack of ammunition. He dropped the pistol as the bird crashed headlong into his hands. He rolled and pinned the crow to the ground with his arm. Then he clubbed it about the head with the butt of the luger. Despite a series of sickening cracks the crow continued to beat it's wings and try to bite him. He dropped the gun and reached to his belt. His hand came back holding a knife, which he used to decapitate the struggling bird. It's wings didn't stop flapping for a few moments. When it was still Kurt gathered his things, got up and set off. His pace was quicker and he did not slow down for some time.  
  
***  
  
Alright everyone. Let's get a move on and make up for lost time."  
  
Briegel had heard the explosion and was now leading his men into what was designated as area 3 on the maps.  
  
They marched across the land as quickly as they could, due to Briegel's insistence at sticking to his schedule despite the unforeseen setback. The men did not grumble or complain as they were disciplined, drilled, and most importantly of all, respectful of their commander. Briegel was a force to be reckoned with. The men under his command knew better than to reckon with him.  
  
They trudged on toward whatever waited. 


	10. Hunted

"Wait, what was that noise?"  
  
Kessal stopped behind Briegel and frowned.  
  
"I didn't hear anything sir."  
  
Briegel shook his head. He had heard something moving in the woods that they were walking alongside. Something big lumbering along, crashing through the undergrowth.  
  
"Tell the men to be alert and ready. I don't like this one bit."  
  
***  
  
Back in Denmark the two officers were informed that both labs had been destroyed. Nothing that God had put on this earth could have survived it.  
  
***  
  
Kurt had gone into the woods. The trees would give him more cover from the crows, which had become killers. He got an uneasy feeling as he moved cautiously through the green plants that covered the ground. He could hear distant voices but could not distinguish what was being said. He could also hear something closer.  
  
***  
  
It moved as quietly as it's huge bulk could allow, sweeping the plants aside. It hadn't been out in the open before. Everything was alien to it. However it's insectile intelligence failed to realise this in any great depth. But it did realise other things.  
  
The Hunger.  
  
The Hunt.  
  
The Prey. 


	11. Point of Convergance

For a few seconds Briegel did not register the screams of the young private. He'd been weary and become complacent, something he would never do on a normal battlefield.  
  
He spun found, preparing to fire his machine pistol. At the back of the ranks of men a soldier was being hoisted into the air by some sort of ogre. It held him, impaled on the end of a huge spike, staring at him.  
  
The men all stood transfixed. They were not frozen in place by terror, for they were trained to cope with fear, but wonder. No man there on that day had ever seen such a grotesque creature. And now that they were seeing it they had no idea of how to deal with it. As the fiend began to claw at the man's face, Briegel decided to give them a little prompting.  
  
"OPEN FIRE!!!"  
  
Immediately the Para-troopers snapped out of their stupor. They levelled their Mauser rifles and MP-40s at the huge bulk and opened fire.  
  
A torrent of bullets enveloped the monster, stray bullets killing it's already doomed victim. The monster did not make any sound and if it had it would have been inaudible over the explosions of the guns.  
  
Two of the men set up an MG-42 machine gun and began to unleash it's hailstorm of lead.  
  
As the light machine gun burst into action most of thee mean were working to reload their weapons. They worked quickly, going through a well- practiced routine that ended in a full clip, ready for action.  
  
The monster brought it's arms to it's sides. The teenage soldier, now limp and lifeless, slid from the spear like outgrowth and onto the ground. The beast walked slowly forward into the incoming fire. It didn't flinch as bullet after bullet slammed into it.  
  
As it advanced some of the men began to panic and retreat slowly. Others held their ground, not knowing how to give up.  
  
***  
  
Kurt lay face down in the waterlogged ground of the woods. He dropped into the prone position when he'd heard an ungodly number of weapons opening fire. The water soaked his uniform, making him shiver. His cheek was pressed against the earth, covered in dirt.  
  
Then the gunfire started to die down. Screams began to issue from somewhere not very far from where Kurt was. Gradually the screams were replacing the weapons fire. Kurt couldn't believe it but the sound of the men screaming was louder than the sound of the machine gun fire.  
  
  
  
Briegel slapped a fresh magazine into his MP-40. He turned to Kessal.  
  
"This isn't working. We have to retreat now and try get some assistance."  
  
In front of the two men the fight was still going on. Most of the men were dead, lying in pieces on the battlefield, their blood soaking into the soil. A small handful, no more than five were walking back quickly, firing as the creature continued it's steady march toward them.  
  
One didn't watch his footing, slipped on a rock and fell. As he tried to get up the monster was on him. It stuck the cruel looking harpoon of it's left arm down into the man's chest. As he choked, blood flowing from his mouth, it raised him into the air and gripped his leg. It pulled down on the leg, dragging his body down the spike.  
  
"Retreat! RETREAT!!!" Kessal yelled at the remaining men.  
  
He turned to Briegel.  
  
"Sir, I advise a withdrawal to a more secure area where, hopefully, we can obtain some sort of help"  
  
"I'm all for running too Sergeant"  
  
***  
  
The screaming had stopped. Kurt had thought it never would. It was time to move away from this place. He didn't want to come into contact with whatever he had just heard.  
  
He got up and brushed himself down. Water had soaked the front of his uniform. His face and clothes were covered in mud.  
  
He pushed a few branches aside and began to make his way south, clutching the machine gun tightly.  
  
After a while he was aware of the crashing sound again. It was coming from behind him. He turned and crouched, aiming the gun upwards. He could see a dark shape moving through the woodland, following a path similar to the one he had taken.  
  
He began to squeeze the trigger.  
  
Two men came into view. They were wearing Fallschirmjäger uniform. The leading one, a colonel, was carrying an MP-40 and the sergeant who was following him held a Mauser.  
  
Kurt relaxed his trigger finger. He shouted at them to halt.  
  
The two men stopped, unsure if the command was a good or bad thing. Slowly Kurt rose from the underbrush, his gun still trained on them.  
  
The colonel smiled.  
  
"Werner Briegel. This is my Sergeant, Julius Kessal. Could you lower the gun please?"  
  
Kurt did so. Then he introduced himself. He saw them glance at his SS uniform and grimace. At that he told them how he had gotten on the island and the circumstances that had forced him to stay on it.  
  
The two men didn't seem too fazed when he recounted the events. In fact Briegel nodded.  
  
"I didn't like what I saw when I arrived on this island. And after hearing your story I like it even less"  
  
Kessal tapped Briegel on the shoulder. He had his maps out again. As he spoke to his commander Kurt walked over.  
  
"Sir we're in the middle of Area three. I suggest we head straight to area five rather than four. Five encompasses the beach and is the area that I believe that is the where Colonel Braust and Rosemeyer will be. If we can get to them we might have a chance. If not, Area five is the south most landmass. It is the closest to the mainland and thus the most likely place for us to find some sort of boat"  
  
Briegel nodded and filled in Kurt on what had happened to his men. He then asked Kurt to join him. Kurt, tired and sick of the island, agreed without hesitation. 


	12. In which many things are resolved, on th...

The three Germans made their way at a steady pace, trying to reach Area 5 as soon as they could. Kurt, exhausted by his experiences on the island began to show the signs of his lack of sleep. He swallowed the Benzedrine- type drug that Kessal offered him. It would keep him awake and alert for a longer time but when the effects wore off he was likely to fall asleep no matter where he was or what was happening.  
  
Gradually the woodland dissipated and they were in fairly hilly area. They made their way due south, pausing every so often so that they could check the surrounding area with Briegel's field glasses.  
  
Eventually they arrived in Area 5 where they found Braust, Rosenberg and their men.  
  
There was a heavy smell in the air, one that Briegel and Kessal both recognized from their time on the Russian front. It was a smell that had always been present and had followed them wherever they went. It was the smell of freshly dead corpses.  
  
The remaining Fallschirmjäger had been brutally slaughtered in much the same way that Briegel's men had met their fate. Scattered on the overgrown grass were hundreds of spent ammunition casings. Empty magazines and discarded ammunition belts lay close to the fallen men. Whatever happened here had almost been a mirror of Briegel's own defeat.  
  
They picked up some spare ammunition and scouted round for anything useful. Kessal suggested using the units' radio to call for help but when discovered the radio was destroyed, cleaved in two, in much the same way as it's owner had been.  
  
***  
  
It watched. In much the way that a cat plays with a mouse before killing it, Ritterrüstung enjoyed to invoke fear in the hearts of it's prey. It didn't know why, but it did know the hunger, the hunt and the prey.  
  
The hunt was over, the prey had been found and soon the hunger would be sated. Ritterrüstung lumbered forward, walking again. Despite it's intelligence being akin to that of the common housefly it was, on some basic level, enjoying this.  
  
***  
  
Kessal removed the cross from what remained of one rifleman's neck. He'd been a believer in God, but the war had changed that. He'd been to some of the most awful places in the world and seen barbaric acts of savagery on a daily basis. But now he was ready to believe again. It wasn't because he was scared to die, he'd always known he'd die someday and he wasn't afraid of it. No, he believed in God today because right now he was in a place that was the opposite of heaven. He was in hell being stalked by Lucifer. God had to exist.  
  
Briegel was shouting to him and Kurt. He was waving, beckoning for them to join him. They jogged over, curious about what had excited the normally hard to impress colonel.  
  
It was a waffenhalter, it's parachute still fluttering in the wind. The weapons container had been dropped miles off target.  
  
"What the hell is this doing here?" asked Kessal.  
  
"Drop mechanism on the JU 52's wing must have jammed. The pilot must have got it free on his way back to the mainland," theorised Briegel.  
  
The sergeant nodded his agreement.  
  
"Let's open it shall we? I doubt it'll be of any use though Werner. You saw how that animal stood up to our machine guns"  
  
With Kurt's help they prised it open. It contained mostly infantry weapons and ammunition. There was some anti tank devices such as mines and a panzerfaust. There was miscellaneous equipment ranging from tents to flares.  
  
Briegel shook his head.  
  
"I vote we leave this behind. It'll only slow us down. Let's just find a boat and get the hell out of here."  
  
The other two men, both eager to leave Doenitz once and for all, followed Briegel's line of thinking.  
  
***  
  
Closer. Closer still.  
  
For a creature of such enormous size Ritterrüstung was surprisingly good at keeping itself from being discovered.  
  
Moving nearer and nearer.  
  
A viscous red drool dribbled down from it's lips.  
  
Now was the time.  
  
***  
  
Kessal saw the boathouse when they reached the shoreline. It was a heart- breaking sight. A bomb had obliterated the boathouse. A bomb, which had fallen from a German plane. Their own side had ruined their chances of escape. Kessal felt his heart beginning to sink.  
  
It would have sunk too if Kurt had not let out a delighted whoop. Kessal and Briegel both followed the direction in which his finger was pointing. In the distance they could about make out an E-boat.  
  
"Quickly… do we have anything that we could use to signal it?"  
  
"No… but the waffenhalter. It had flares in it."  
  
Briegel slapped his hand to his forehead in a manner that almost appeared comical to Kessal.  
  
"Damn… of course. Kurt, you run as fast as you can and get some of them. We should be visible from here. Maybe bring some of those tents as well. We could burn them of use them to flag the E-boat down"  
  
Bursting with enthusiasm and hope Kurt ran back in the direction that they had come.  
  
***  
  
It saw one of them break off and run away. This was strange because it could no longer sense fear; the pheromones in the air had changed.  
  
If they didn't fear then they were a threat.  
  
It attacked.  
  
***  
  
Kessal was flapping his arms frantically at the E-boat, trying to attract the attention of someone onboard. He yelled and yelled, shouting himself hoarse. Beside him Briegel was doing the same.  
  
Suddenly something wasn't right. He sensed something and yet couldn't feel it. His rifle dropped out of his hands. He felt the blood drain from his face. For some reason he felt very weak. His knees buckled and he felt his balance go; yet he didn't fall down.  
  
As his world got colder and his vision darker, he looked down. A long white spear had pierced his left bicep. Blood was flowing from the wound and staining his already wet and dirty uniform.  
  
He rolled his head to the side. Briegel was moving backwards and firing the MP-40. He opened his mouth as if shouting something, but Kessal couldn't seem to hear anything.  
  
***  
  
Kurt was almost at the waffenhalter when he heard the shots. He turned around and saw the ogre that Briegel had described. It was holding something and moving toward Briegel. Kurt ran to the waffenhalter, hoping to find something that would kill the huge beast.  
  
***  
  
Briegel continued to move back along the sandy beach as he reloaded. The creature allowed Kessal to slide off of it's spike to the ground. The brave sergeant lay still on the wet sand.  
  
It looked at Briegel, it's eyes blank and soulless, belying no intelligence.  
  
Briegel cocked his machine pistol and let off another blast at the animal, this time aiming for it's head. The blaze of short three round bursts tore at it's flesh, chunks exploding and hitting the ground with a dull patter.  
  
This didn't do anything to stop it.  
  
Briegel reached down to his belt for a fresh clip. He found none. Throwing the MP-40 aside he took his luger from its holster.  
  
***  
  
Kurt ran up onto one of the dunes on the beach. He was only a short distance away from Briegel and the growling monstrosity. In his arms he held a long metal tube with a sight, handle and trigger. It was a panzerfaust, the German version of the American bazooka. It was an anti- tank weapon, so if it didn't work he was prepared to give up.  
  
His fingers trembled as he placed the rocket into the barrel of the panzerfaust. Then he fumbled, trying to hold it the right way.  
  
***  
  
The luger was even less effective than the MP-40. Briegel threw it at the hulking mass of rotting flesh once he'd run out of bullets. He moved back more quickly but the monster matched his pace.  
  
His foot hit a barnacle-encrusted rock and he fell over. He had time to think about the young man who had tripped up during the earlier battle and what had happened to him.  
  
The creature raised the spike into the air, preparing to plunge it into Briegel's chest.  
  
Behind it, on one of the dunes, Briegel saw a flash and a puff of smoke, followed by a loud whooshing.  
  
***  
  
The anti-tank rocket hit Ritterrüstung between the shoulder blades. The explosion tore the abomination in two, splitting the top half of it's body down the middle. Disgusting, foul liquids and lumps of rotting meat showered Briegel. He gagged and vomited. Once he had himself together he got up and ran toward Kessal.  
  
***  
  
By the time Kurt had caught up with him Briegel had reached the motionless form of Kessal. They both knelt beside him and Briegel checked for a pulse. He found one, albeit a faint one. They rolled him over onto his side and applied pressure to the wounds from where the blade had entered and exited.  
  
Beside them burned one of the flares. The E-boat was changing it's course and head for the Doenitz island.  
  
The crewmen of the E-boat helped them onboard and Kessal was taken below. Then stab had missed his lung by a small margin. Any closer and he would have drowned in his own blood on the beach. Briegel and Kurt accepted the brandy that was offered to them.  
  
The E-boat began to head for Denmark. 


	13. Aftermath

The Doenitz Aftermath  
  
Kurt Stapel returned to civilian life. He continued to live his hometown of Schaffelend. He never spoke to anyone of the Doenitz island. Died in 1993.  
  
Julius Kessal did not return to the Fallschirmjäger after he recovered from his wounds. He was considered unfit for military service and given a desk job.  
  
Werner Briegel was killed in action on D-day plus four.  
  
***  
  
After the end of the war a dark haired French man with bushy eyebrows, who may once have been known by the name of Krupp, set up a small company under the name of Parasol (French for umbrella). The company dealt in the production of penicillin but by the early fifties had begun to branch into other areas such as bioengineering. By the mid-sixties it was the leading Biochemistry Company.  
  
In 1967 it expanded its operations and became more westernised, changing its name in the UK and America to Umbrella.  
  
You may have heard of them.  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
Author's Note  
  
Well, that's it. I'd appreciate any input on this story, be it a review or an eight-page essay on how I could improve the story.  
  
I actually got this idea when thinking up an idea for a Resident Evil game; I'd been playing Day of Defeat at the time. My original draft had Leon tracking down Kurt and interviewing him but I cut it as I felt that it would be better if the reader was unsure of Kurt's fate. I'm considering doing some more Origin stuff.  
  
Everything in this Fanfic was mine apart from Umbrella and the Resident Evil name. If anyone wants to use the characters or write a follow up to this story just send me an e-mail and I'll probably allow it.  
  
Check out my other stories (This is the only fanfic I've written so far. I prefer to do originals.) I think you'll like them ;) 


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